Padmini Page 6

  The epic, consisting of eighteen cantos, described the life and times of Maharawal Shrenik. He was a legendary hero characterized by the qualities of gallantry, chivalry, valour and noble conduct. Since it had the aspects of both grammar and characterization in epic proportions, it was also known by another title: Durgavrittidayashraya.

  The epic poem was so powerful that the reader was irresistibly drawn to it and transported to a world of blissfulness. The entire epic was replete with the most hallowed traditions of righteousness, with even a casual reading offering a sense of peace and tranquillity. Each canto was titled according to the incident it described and ended with a brief reference to the next storyline.

  The acharya, its author, was a scholar of grammar and philosophy.

  The king was a connoisseur of art and literature. He relished discussions on the art of poetry. He was deeply impressed by the poetic maturity and erudition of the acharya and would speak glowingly about how the author had presented his scholarship so lucidly.

  Padmini opened the book and started reading a benedictory verse while remembering Rishabhanatha.

  Siddhau varnāsamāmnāyah sarvasyopachikīrshatā

  Yenādau jagade Brahmna yen nandyānnabhinandana

  She started brooding again. One thinks and plans, yet what ultimately happens is different. I had my own dreams and imaginations . . . Where have they all gone now?

  At one point, she had a future planned. She had thought of donating some money to charity and getting beautiful temples constructed, thus spending the rest of her days working for the well-being of those in need.

  Likhvanbai had once told her that Jayatalli Devi, the maharawal’s grandmother, was so impressed by the discourses of a Jain scholar of Gachcha that she got the Shyam Parshwanath temple constructed there. Later, her son, the Rajan’s father, had donated a plot of land to Pradyumna Suri, the acharya of Gachcha, for a monastery to be set up.

  She had heard about the generosity and broad-mindedness of Rajmata Jayatalli Devi, who, despite being a devotee of Lord Shiva, had made a donation for the construction of Jain temples. Likhvanbai had shown her the gift-deed inscribed on a copper plate, which she had borrowed from the museum. Having seen the names of those who donated large sums written on copper plaques, Padmini instantly yearned to see her name on one of them, with ‘Shri Ganeshaya Namah’ written on top or one mounted on the Chunda’s spear. The coming generations would remember her just like Mata Jayatalli Devi.

  Alas, that was not to be. Her mental agony weighed heavily on her. The part of her mind that stored her lofty ambitions began to empty. She kept sitting for a long while, downhearted, confounded and lost. To be left before a debauched sultan, by transgressing the bounds of morality, is an indelible blot on the glorious reputation of this royal dynasty, she thought.

  It will break me completely. I won’t be able to stand it. That moment will be unbearable. No, I want mukti, salvation from this ignoble life.

  Padmini groaned in anguish, ‘O Krishna! Where are you? You made possible what was an impossible task by salvaging the honour of Draupadi in a courtroom full of men. And here you are not listening to my prayers.’

  Finally, the cursed moment arrived in all its ferocity. All preparations had been made in the main corridor. Lavish arrangements and the display of opulence were at their peak.

  Gifts had been placed on large round plates: khilat, a robe of honour especially designed for the sultan; gem-studded armour and ornaments; ruby and emerald rings; gold coins, both asharfis and mohars; and expensive shawls. Nobility and officers were also given precious gifts according to their status.

  Yet, the grandeur was only a thin cover. The palace, fragrant with the variety of dishes being prepared, was unable to mask the fear that roiled in its interiors. The air crackled with tension.

  The stifling silence was drowned in the mist of uncertainty. The light from everyone’s eyes had been extinguished. They had fallen silent as though they had committed a crime. Life looked like a desert, desolate, where every drop of water had dried up.

  Padmini sat still, scared. As the fateful hour came closer, her fear grew. Her hands and feet turned cold. Her forehead was wet with cold perspiration. She began to see yellow particles flying before her eyes. Her heart began to palpitate.

  ‘Patience, Ranisa,’ said Sugna. She placed her hand gently on Padmini’s back, trying to console her.

  But whatever patience she had was gone. What was left was an unbearable burden, which continued to grow. Could one have patience at a moment of facing an odious beast ready to pounce on its prey, and the moment of stripping naked one’s soul? She shut her eyes and tried to stay afloat in the darkness.

  The inauspicious hour had arrived.

  Sugna breathed, ‘Please come, Ranisa!’

  She felt as if she was being pushed from the peak of a hill into a deep gorge. She was falling helplessly.

  The all-powerful royal dynasty of the Guhils, which had always trounced its enemies, whose reputation transcended all boundaries, had to face this ignominy. They were forced to send their queen, who had not been touched even by the sun, before the brutal Ala-ud-Din. The shining glory of all past victories stood tarnished this day.

  She was hurt, humiliated and wallowing in soiled modesty. Agony had stressed all her nerves. Her hands turned icy cold. A shiver, rising from her fingers, ran through her entire body. She began to tremble like a dried leaf. The ground under her feet seemed to cave in. The sky overhead seemed to approach her menacingly as if to devour her.

  Blue waves of deadly poison were lapping against her.

  Her throat was dry, her feet were faltering, and her vision was blurred. An unbearable pain caused restlessness; pressure built up in her temples. With every step, she felt her energy ebbing away. She dragged herself like an innocent animal being taken to the sacrificial altar. Following her were her attendants, who were walking mechanically, as though under a spell. An unfathomable pain had settled in their eyes.

  By the time she reached the appointed venue, she had almost fainted. She looked as though she was lifeless.

  A death-like shadow had spread all around. Everybody’s self-esteem, their feelings of dynastic pride were blown to bits.

  More insightful now, Padmini became aware of her position. The king, the Ranas, the entire royal family, the feudal chieftains, the retainers, the guards and the attendants had vanished. If there was anything left behind, it was the awareness that she was alone.

  She was seated close to an oriel adorned with precious gemstones, her reflection clearly visible in a large mirror. She looked completely absorbed in herself, her face frozen. She kept her eyes closed so that she would not have to look at that devil by mistake. As she faced the most demeaning moment of her life, Rani Padmini perhaps looked more beautiful than ever. An unusual loveliness had covered her gloomy face.

  Even with her eyes closed she could sense a pair of lustful eyes peering at her like a customer evaluating goods at a shop. It numbed her senses and left her petrified.

  Her forehead was damp. A frightening moment of impending death seemed to have stayed forever. Everything lay exposed in that cruel heartless glare. The ego had been trampled underfoot, and a severely wounded moment had blown all ideals to smithereens. She felt as if her head was being hit with a hammer.

  Black lines of gloom started streaming out of a hitherto unblemished block of ice. Very soon, the glory of beauty began to fade because of the unchecked trauma. On the verge of losing consciousness, Padmini felt bereft of her remaining strength; as though there was nothing left in that paralysed body.

  A painful contortion rising from her stomach wrenched her heart terribly. Her legs began to tremble. A ball of smoky wind began to spin inside her. Black, round spots began to swim in front of closed eyes. Her head was throbbing.

  She was about to faint. Her attendants rushed to help. Her mind was filled with feelings of guilt and remorse as though she had committed a grave sin. It left a bitter tast
e in her mouth.

  All her royal pride and ego fell to pieces.

  * * *

  Padmini was lying on her bed, motionless. On either side, her attendants waved hand-held fans lightly. That cursed moment had passed like a scary nightmare. Every moment she lived, every breath she took was as painful as being bitten by a thousand snakes.

  She gasped for breath. Sugna spritzed her face with cold water and then wiped it softly. A few drops of the medicine prescribed by the raj vaidya, the royal physician, were put into her mouth. Slowly, she gulped and let out a feeble moan of pain. Something extremely bitter spread in her mouth.

  She looked as though she had been ill for years. Sugna dipped her head, almost touching her ear, and uttered softly, ‘Ranisa.’

  Her face fluttered a little, but her eyelids did not open. Adding all the love and affection to her voice, Sugna repeated, ‘Ranisa!’

  Padmini regained some consciousness. She had to gather all her strength to raise her fragile eyelids. Slowly, she came to her senses. With some effort she was able to open her eyes. Her gaze was steady, but there was nothing in them to indicate that she had any interest in living. There was no flame of desire of any kind in them. She made an attempt to say something, but her voice trembled like a flickering flame and then fell silent.

  Her lissome body looked emaciated and bloodless. It was as if there was no life left in her. That she had been disgraced in public view filled the innermost depths of her heart with voices of self-condemnation and disgust.

  Sugna’s hand was caressing her back. Her affectionate touch gave Padmini much-needed comfort. She felt consoled and reassured. She was coming out of the state of inertness slowly, but steadily. Memories of persons and places were coming back, which helped her manage the pain to an extent.

  ‘How do you feel now?’ Sugna asked tenderly.

  Padmini swivelled her head weakly, her face devoid of emotions. It looked as though an ocean had dried up, and beautiful flower beds had turned into islands of sand. Her parched lips quivered, ‘I’m all right.’

  She gestured that she needed to be by herself. Sugna asked the other attendants to leave. She sat at Padmini’s feet and with one hand began to stroke the sole of her foot.

  The room was still submerged in guilty silence. Those hideous moments had stayed in her thoughts, as though they had been branded in her mind with a red-hot iron rod. That heart-wrenching pain had come alive once again. Her heart began to ache inconsolably. She felt as if a soundless scream was trapped in her throat. Her face had lost its glow.

  Somewhere within, she had assumed that her strong devotion to god would have prevented this from happening; and that if it did happen, it would enable her to overcome this agony. That faith of hers now stood shaken. All her prayers made in solitude had gone unanswered. For the first time in her life, she realized the futility of her devotional practices.

  The door of the room was ajar. There was a scramble of voices outside. The attendants were chatting. Snatches of their conversation could be heard inside. It was Magan’s voice they heard first.

  ‘How awful he looked! There was nothing sultan-like in him.’

  Lakshmi, who had a discerning eye for looks and demeanour, said, ‘How gaudy and garish was his apparel! He was not just wearing gems and jewels but was literally dripping with them.’

  ‘How shamelessly he was leering at one attendant after another, taking each of them to be the queen!’ It was Chand’s voice.

  ‘How brutish his eyes were, blood-red with heavy drinking! Far from a king, he looked as if he was an uncivilized, uncultured ruffian.’

  ‘Not just uncultured but a demon in human garb. When he laughed, his ugly, dirty and unshapely large teeth would stick out.’

  ‘Did you notice how greedily he was gawking at Ranisa? It looked as if his eyes would pop out.’

  ‘Did you see Raghav Chetan?’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Many voices came together.

  ‘He was constantly whispering in Ala-ud-Din’s ear.’

  ‘Ungrateful!’

  ‘Listen, Magan! Where are you going?’

  ‘The old badaran, the lady caretaker, has called me. The main kitchen is being purified with water from the Ganga.’

  ‘Stop talking, girls!’ Sugna came out of the room to scold the attendants who were chatting non-stop.

  Instantly, everybody fell silent.

  Just then the old woman, the badaran, came beating her breast and crying loudly. Watching her run in with panic, everybody grew agitated, knowing instinctively that something inauspicious had happened. The old woman looked terrified; her face was white with fear. All eyes were on her.

  Hearing the commotion, Padmini appeared in the doorway. Sensing something untoward, she was overcome by an unknown fear. With her heart in her mouth, she watched the scene helplessly.

  ‘Those devils have held the annadata hostage. They have taken him away to their camp,’ said the old woman.

  ‘What nonsense is this old woman talking? Has she gone senile?’ All of them looked at her quizzically.

  One of them approached her and asked apprehensively, ‘They have taken our annadata to the enemy camp as a prisoner? Are you sure about what you are saying?’

  ‘Yes, yes. I saw it with my own eyes,’ the old woman gasped.

  ‘What?’ Their jaws dropped.

  An ominous silence descended, as though a thunderbolt had hit them.

  Chhagan mustered up the courage and asked her, ‘What were our brave soldiers deputed for the king’s security doing?’

  ‘They were taken by surprise. The sultan’s men played a dirty game. They gained entry into the fort deceitfully on the pretext of seeing around the palace. All of a sudden, they surrounded the king, to the consternation of all.’

  She was crying inconsolably. ‘What more is in store for us? These Turks have caused havoc.’

  Before the people of Mewar could fully recover from the disgrace, here was another blow. Their mouths dried up. They felt as though both earth and sky had been shattered.

  The old badaran fell to Padmini’s feet and wept bitterly. ‘Those demons have destroyed all our peace and happiness,’ she said raising her head skywards. She wailed, ‘God! What is this will of yours? Why do you want us to suffer this pain and disgrace?’

  Everybody was in a state of shock and dismay. Magan collapsed. Covering her eyes with her hands, she started howling. Chand and Nanhu stood speechless. Sugna, not knowing what to do or say in this hour of crisis, looked helplessly at the old woman and at Padmini. She could not bring herself to believe what had happened.

  The old woman was weeping unstoppably. She raised her callused hands and began to curse the enemy, ‘May complete ruination befall you. I curse you. You will be remembered by all only as an odious devil. Your own power will bring your annihilation. You and your entire clan will perish with no one left behind to take your name. You will suffer the worst punishment in hell, while you are living.’ Her words, screaming, curses, were swirling in the air.

  ‘He is a pervert with the brain of a beast,’ said Chhagan. Her voice was choked with rage.

  Their eyes were void of expressions of hope.

  A small group of attendants approached Padmini. None of them had the nerve to say a word.

  The shocking news struck Padmini like a thunderbolt. For a while, all she could hear and feel was the tingling in her brain and the beating of her heart. Nonplussed, unconscious of her surroundings, petrified, she stood transfixed in the doorway as if she were a statue. And then she fell.

  * * *

  It took her some time to regain consciousness. Pain had blinded her and enveloped her in a bubble of harsh silence. She was about to lapse into unconsciousness again, but she pulled herself together with effort. It seemed like it was the end of life and she was on the brink of death.

  Everybody was at their wits’ end, wondering how to console her and what to say to assuage her torment.

  Bewildered and blinded by deep m
elancholy, she muttered to herself: They have held the Rajan captive by deceit. But why? Why did they do so? Hadn’t he agreed to the sultan’s conditions? It was his proposal and the Rajan had complied with it. What happened all of a sudden?

  It was he who had come with this treaty. How can a person who claims to be the Sultan of Delhi stoop so low as to go back on his word? How is it that he didn’t think twice before hatching the most abominable conspiracy? Didn’t his conscience condemn him? He had sworn on his Iman, his Faith. This deceitful conduct of the sultan was a ruthless betrayal of all canons of justice, ethics, morality and even manliness. How unreasonably and uncannily the cycle of events had turned. What’s going on, and where would it end?

  A stunned silence prevailed; the city and the palace were completely desolate.

  She didn’t know when Sugna left the room. When she returned, her eyes were full of tears. Her face was pale. She was trying, unsuccessfully, to look up and hide her tears.

  Padmini was alarmed by an impending sense of doom. She looked at Sugna apprehensively. She sensed bad news.

  ‘Tell me, Sugna, what has happened?’ It was with great difficulty that she brought herself to ask this question.

  Sugna covered her face with her odhani.

  Why is she silent? Why doesn’t she speak? Her anxiety had reached its climax and could no longer be suppressed. She came close to Sugna and uncovered her face, which was drenched in tears. ‘The sultan has sent an emissary with his royal edict,’ Sugna sobbed. Her voice was drowned in sobs. Her throat constricted and she covered her face again.

  ‘What has he said?’ asked Padmini harshly.

  It was probably the sternness in her tone that compelled Sugna to uncover her face. Still, she needed some effort to say what she had left unsaid. ‘The edict states that if Rani Padmini is given over to the sultan, he will place all the comforts and luxuries of the world at her feet and set Maharawal Ratan Singh free. After this has been done, he will lift the siege and remove his encampment. But if this condition is unacceptable to the king, then . . .’